


It Seemed Like a Good Idea (At the Time!)

by AuroraB



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Holidays, Kidnapping, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraB/pseuds/AuroraB
Summary: Felicity, a blacklisted genius hacker, who works at Big Belly Burger, finds herself in quite a bind when her date cancels for her mother’s Christmas party. Not wanting to undergo the scrutiny of her relatives and her mother’s scathing reprimand, she kidnaps her long-time crush Oliver Queen and… insanity ensues.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So I have no excuse for this one, lol! Hope you enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://tinypic.com?ref=148osp)  
> 

“My life is not a movie. My life is not a movie. My life is not a movie.” Felicity chanted, reminding herself that her foolhardy, felony of an idea might be cute in the movies, but could, (probably would, _hell_ , it was a definite at this point) land her in jail.

A freezing, dark, damp jail cell with a roommate named ‘Bubba the love sponge’ that took baths only when forced to. She reminded herself, but still she stood waiting for the opportunity to strike.

As soon as she saw the tall, (like, really tall) and handsome (did she mention handsome?), Oliver Queen step out of the diner’s backdoor she swung, the bat connecting solidly with the side of his head. There was a sickening thud and he dropped like a dead weight, and Felicity really hoped she hadn’t killed him because barring life imprisonment she needed his help.

Walking over she laid her hand on his chest waiting for the rise and fall, letting out a sigh of relief as he breathed. She dropped the bat, then, knowing she needed both hands for moving his body. Grabbing tightly onto his coat, she dragged his very heavy body over to her waiting vehicle.

As she huffed, the cold mist forming in front her mouth, she continued her mantra, “My life is not a movie. My life is not a movie. My life is not a movie. I _will_ get locked up for this shit!"


	2. Deep End? I've Seen it and I Danced Off that Motherf...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fun begins. This story is based on Holiday In Handcuffs. I just loved that movie!

**_Thirty-six hours earlier_ **

“Hey,” Felicity heard a deep baritone.

She looked up from where she was arranging the Christmas cookies on the platter flushing slightly when she saw it was Oliver. Oliver was one of the regulars at Big Belly Burger, where she had started working when it became obvious that no one hired ‘persons of interest’ to the FBI even if they were tech geniuses. Cooper, her boyfriend at the time, may have taken the fall for creating her super virus, but Felicity had been too close and by the FBI’s estimation too smart to be just the sidekick. It kept her on the FBI’s watch list and who knew that could be an actual problem for employers. It didn’t help that she was now on the straight and narrow and refused to illegally expunge her record.

That led to her being gainfully employed at the nicest fast food restaurant in the city mainly on the goodwill of Carly Diggle. The woman was a paragon and had come into Felicity’s life when she was seriously contemplating returning home to Vegas and living with her mother, Donna Smoak, a horror no one should endure, let alone twice in their life. She had just spoken to her mother, a sort of smug triumph in her voice at Felicity’s failure. Donna Smoak had always loved being right and finding out that every poor prediction that she made about Felicity’s determination to get out of Vegas came true, well, it nearly sent the woman into a tizzy. She had met Carly after that discussion with her mother, which ended as it always did, with Felicity in tears, and she had spilled the entire sad story to the woman and had been offered a job at the diner for which she was a manager. It was there she met Oliver Queen.

_The Oliver Queen._

 Starling City’s very own prince and playboy and the alliteration was used often. Felicity always enjoyed when he came in, not only was he a big tipper, but he was genuinely pleasant and it didn’t hurt that he was looked like a Calvin Klein model. Not that she had seen him in anything except suits, but it was the way the man filled out his suit, well  _that_  she often drooled over.

When he had first come in, she thought he was lost. He was so different from the usual customers in his well-tailored ensemble. He smiled as he sat, slipping off both coat and jacket before rolling up his sleeves and looking at the menu and then ordering a half of it. He had a huge appetite, another turn on because every woman knew that a guy who ate with gusto was passionate about other things, namely _her_. Not her, her, but you know, whoever warmed his bed at night.

He was also unfailingly polite, not much of a talker, but when he did, he always spoke to her like she was more than a waitress. He was just so… amazing, built like a linebacker and as tall as a basketball player. Felicity had developed a schoolgirl crush on him. She wasn’t stupid though, guys like him never dated girls like her. He dated leggy goddesses, who looked like supermodels. His last girlfriend, Laurel lance was a prime example. It was the law of equality, a perfect man deserved a perfect woman, and she was far too flawed.

All she could do was add him to the fantasy bank, and if she were honest, make him crown-king, prince, advisor and court jester, because she had never met a man who could compare to him.

“Felicity?” He remembered her name, of course he remembered her name and somehow it never ceased to surprise her.

She was gaping at him again. In a bid to save face, she said, “I wasn’t staring. I mean, I was but not in the creepy, ‘I’m watching you’ way, just surprised to see you here. Not that you shouldn’t be here. I, mean, we need the customers, especially ones who tip as well as you. Not that I only want you here for the tips! I just meant, it’s the day before Christmas Eve…” She bit her lips, trying to cease the firestorm of words she had thrown at him.

“Felicity,” he gave that little half smile of his shaking his head at her ramble. “I’m going on a ski trip from tomorrow. Just needed my fix of Big belly burger before I leave.”

“Oh,” she answered. Clearing her throat, she pushed away any more verbal gaffes that wanted to escape, “So, what can I get for you today? The usual?”

He winked, he actually winked, and she was pretty sure her lady bits swooned.

“I’m going to change it up today,” he answered, “How about the steak burger, fries, a large vanilla milkshake and two slices of cherry pie.”

“Coming right up,” she promised, noting his order and delivering to the cook.

She turned after intent on resuming their conversation, but Felicity heard the shrill ring of her cell phone over the smattering of conversation at the diner.

“I really need to change that freaking ringtone!” She mused quietly.

Felicity knew, though, the reason the ringtone had become such a bother was due to the recent influx of calls from her mother. She went from having her phone ring once a day, if at all, to having Donna’s incessant calls for chatter on the ‘party of the year’.

It was funny how the woman always had the last laugh. Not long after Felicity refused to return to Vegas, her mother had taken up with a high roller, named Simon Lacroix. The man was the founder of Stellmoor International, a multibillion-dollar multinational corporation, and travelled all over the world, including Starling City, where his latest conquest was. Stellmoor International had acquired Kord Industries and in order to smooth over the transition, her mom’s new beau was throwing a hugely lavish Christmas party. Normally Felicity wouldn’t care, but she had been asked/commanded by Donna to make an appearance.

What especially raised her ire besides Donna’s demand, was found at the end of every conversation. Donna loved to reiterate how Felicity was expected to attend with a date and by expected, she meant, ‘appear on pain of torture’; the torture being Donna’s consistent expression of disappointed, well more than usual, for the foreseeable future. Her disbelief that she could accomplish this feat, i.e. getting a date, always made Felicity furious. She was a grown woman, and her mother still had a penchant for making her feel like an awkward teenager.

Looking at the screen, she sighed, and with great reluctance pressed the answer button.

“Yes, mom,” she greeted as a customer motioned for a refill.

“Felicity, sweetheart, the colors are green, blue and white.” Donna spoke skipping any preamble which was not unusual. The thing that was unusual; was the poor imitation of a British accent she sported. Felicity resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her mother as she continued, “So I implore you not to clash with that and to be there promptly at four as you promised to help me set up.”

“Mom…” she started to speak because firstly, she knew what the damn colors were and while she might not be as into fashion as her mother was, she knew how to dress and secondly why the hell was Donna Smoak imitating a British accent?

“Have you secured a date yet?” The second recurring theme in the slate of chitchats they had emerged and Felicity fought the urge to swear.

“Mom, can you stop with the fake British accent?” She said in an exasperated tone.

“It’s called sophistication Felicity, you should try it.” Her mother sounded frustrated, and in her agitation she became one hundred percent American.

“Look,” she didn’t bother to touch that one, “like I said, I’ll be there with a date in tow and bells on,” she pressed the end button before in a rage threw it down on the table.

“What did that cell phone ever do to you?” Oliver’s husky voice cut into her frustrations

She jumped a little flushing again,

“N-nothing,” she stuttered, refilling his cup as she explained, “Just my mom being her crazy self for the holidays.”

“Oh, I’ve got my fair share of that.” He let out a chuckle, and Felicity was pretty sure it was the first time she had ever heard him man laugh, even though it was more like a huff of breath. “I’m kind of afraid to see what is going to happen at family Christmas Party. My mother has suddenly taken it into her head that it’s time for me to start a family, so I understand.”

“You don’t want a family?” She inquired, intrigued. Maybe they were crossing a boundary for this was the first time they had spoken about his family.

“My… job is demanding, and finding someone who understand that… who understands what I do…” he trailed off, shrugging.

Felicity didn’t know how to respond to that. Well, she did, but lying prostrate and begging for a chance might be construed as a tad, desperate. Gorgeous, ambitious and a family man, Felicity was pretty sure she had died and gone to heaven. A ding alerted her that her order was up, and she placed the entire meal in front of him.

“Have fun,” she said to him turning away to get the check for grumpy Mark, an elderly man who always sported a scowl. She saw the wink that Carly, sent her, but pointedly chose to ignore it. She got enough flack for her crush on Oliver without adding fuel to it.

As the door opened, Felicity looked up, her eyes widening as in walked everything she was not; leggy, brunette and stunning in a Chanel suit. Even  Felicity Smoak recognized Chanel. She begged every deity she knew, but of course none paid attention, for the brunette strutted over to Oliver and placed a kiss on his cheek, her hand running familiarly down his arm. Felicity felt the urge to throw a tantrum or a freaking spatula, but reigning it in she walked over to the counter just as the girl spoke.

“So, this is where you spend every lunchtime? It’s so…” she started, and Felicity could see the disdain.

“Isabel…” Oliver said, his voice warning. Felicity saw him flick his eyes over to her and Isabel finally turned.

Felicity knew a turned up nose when she saw one. She assessed her fully from head to toe, quickly dismissing her.

“Can I get a cup of coffee, Rudy? Or does this place not even have that?” The brunette said to her.

“Rudy?” Felicity couldn’t stop from repeating stupidly.

“Your nose lights the way,” she continued flippant, “You should seriously consider make-up with a green tint because…”

“Isabel!” Oliver scolded, his eyes flying up to her in apology, but Felicity flushed in embarrassment. She had applied concealer this morning knowing what the cold did to her face. She was so embarrassed knowing she probably really did look like the red-nosed reindeer. She stayed there for a moment, her head down as she fought the flush on her cheeks.

“Coffee?” Isabel, the witch, snapped her fingers, looking at her again.

Felicity scurried like the good little maid doing the bidding of the princess and fought the urge to spit in her drink.

“Here’s your coffee…”  _with a dose of cyanide_ , she added silently, perversely wishing that were true.

She turned away and caught the sympathetic look Carly sent her way and appreciated the scowl John gave the woman on her behalf, but it was no use. She eyed Oliver and Isabel as they talked, her hand possessively touching him every chance she got, and Felicity had a single thought,  _Some bitches have all the luck._

The number of people in the diner picked up, and Felicity had little time to think about Olliver or Isabel. When they were leaving he sought her out apologizing for the woman, but she waved him off because it wasn’t his fault, except for being with someone who had the personality of a piranha.

By the time she was able to take a break, her feet had staged a riot and Felicity was pretty sure there would be no standing, so she walked to the storage room to sit on one of the boxes for her fifteen minutes.

As if he staged it exactly to time, her phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, Barry Allen.

“Hey Barry,” she greeted.

“Hey Felicity,” he croaked, followed by a sneeze. “I’m really sorry to do this, but I can’t make it to the party.”

 _No, no, no, no! This was not happening!_  She refused to believe it.

“Barry!” She almost shouted. “The party is tomorrow. You can’t do this to me.”

“I wouldn’t Felicity if I didn’t have to. You know how long I’ve been waiting to get you out on a date,” it was true. For about six months, he had been asking her out, and she had been finding excuses to avoid saying yes. When the party came around, she had been desperate, and he was the only one she could think to call and now for some reason he was bailing, “I have chicken pox. I’m so sorry.”

Felicity sighed, thinking as excuses go, this one was pretty good, “I’m sorry too, Barry. Just feel better okay? Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, I’m fine. My stepdad is here making me his famous chicken soup. Maybe we can get together later?” He said, sounding so hopeful, even though he was ill. Felicity hadn’t the heart to tell him no.

She hedged, “You should call me when you are feeling better.”

“Sure,” he said, “I’m sorry again. Bye.”

“Bye Barry and I hope you feel better soon,” she answered.

Felicity stomped her foot in frustration, crying out when pain radiated through it. As if her day could get any crappier. She had been pissed on by Barbie’s evil twin, and looked like a fool in front of the guy she had been crushing on, stood up by her date to the party and now with her luck she probably had broken a bone in her foot. There was a reason Barry had been her choice to her mother’s party. The reason was that, there was no choice. There was no one else she could ask, no one else who would say yes to a party on Christmas Eve on such short notice, unless you counted the homeless man outside the diner and she was pretty sure even  _he_  had plans for Christmas.

“Felicity,” she looked up as Carly called her name.

“Oh Carly, sorry. I’m coming,” she said, standing slowly.

Apparently, she hadn’t broken a toe, miracles do happen. The woman nodded as Felicity walked through the door, pondering how she was going to get herself out of this predicament.

‘.¸¸. ✶*¨*. ¸ .✫*¨*.¸¸.✶*¨‘*✫

She pondered it as she walked through the cold streets of Starling to reach her apartment. She contemplated a solution well into the night. Even a sleepless night didn’t fix it, and Felicity had no idea what she was going to do. She was getting desperate and that never boded well. By the time she turned up at work the next day she was frantic, but there was nothing and no one that could help. Looking through her phone for the millionth time gave no hope. Everyone she knew, the few friends, acquaintances had plans for Christmas. She was so screwed.

Around eleven, just an hour before she was supposed to leave, she called her mother.

“Mom, what if I tell you that I don’t have a date for the party?” She asked in lieu of a greeting.

Silence. Absolute silence and Felicity could hear the storm brewing.  _3 … 2 … 1 …_

“You’re kidding, right?” Donna screamed, “Tell me this is a joke, Felicity. I’ve been planning this party for three weeks, and  _now_  you tell me you don’t have a date. You know Simon has potential investors coming! You cannot come to this party, stag. God, I knew it! I just should have organized a date from the beginning for you, knowing you couldn’t…”

Felicity felt a stress headache coming on, so she lied, “Mom… I was just kidding.”

“What?” Donna stopped her rant for the moment.

“I, um, have a date,” she answered, crossing fingers behind her back.

“What’s his name?” Her mom asked, clearly disbelieving her fable.

“O-Oliver,” she answered quickly and without thought, “He’s just about ready, and I’ll be there at four as promised to help you set up, okay?”

“Are you sure? Because Malcolm has a son… He’s a bit of a playboy, but they’re rich and…” she probably would have continued if Felicity had not interrupted.

“Yes, mom,”  _Who the hell was Malcolm? And who was his son? God, I can’t let this happen!_  She thought before answering, “I’m sure,”

“Good. Don’t be late, Felicity,” it seemed she was back to just Felicity again and with that she was gone.

She was so screwed. She dropped her head in her hands wondering how she was going to get out of this. Finally, she stood almost tripping over the bat Carly always kept in there for rowdy customers, not that there has ever been any. It was then her brain connected the dots and a foolhardy, felony of an idea came to her. Just the thought has been too crazy to contemplate, let alone execute, but she was desperate.

So she actually did it.

 


	3. Why Don't You Undo the Handcuffs so I Can Get Comfortable?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver wakes up!

“Fuck!” Oliver Queen groaned as he awoke.

It was one of three words that came to mind — the other two being, ‘the’ and ‘what’ and not necessarily in that order. The pounding in his head, Oliver realized, matched the thundering hooves of a thousand wildebeests being chased by three maniacal hyenas. The fact that he still remembered that reference from lazy days when Thea was still just a toddler meant his long-term memory had not been taken out by whatever had connected with his skull. He tried to reach up to touch his head, but found he couldn’t. His eyes opened then and he saw his hands restrained by handcuffs.

_What. The. Fuck._  Those three words again coupled with passing scenery and the sensation of moving were helping his addled brain put an awfully familiar story together, except this time he had zero clue what his captors were after. Was it Oliver Queen, or the Hood? He had obviously let his guard down too much when something as simple as a baseball bat had taken him out.

Shaking his head, he tried to get rid of the fog clouding his brain and immediately decided that was not a promising idea as he resisted the urge to upchuck. He quickly became cognizant of the fact that he was not alone. The side profile he saw though, shocked the hell out of him.

“Felicity?” He croaked, clearing his throat, voice filled with confusion.

“Um, so you’re awake?” She said like this was a normal occurrence for them to be together in a car with his hands restrained.

“What... What did you do to me?” He asked. She was driving, her hands clutching the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white.

"I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to… I mean… I needed. I was desperate!” She blurted out, her eyes wild as they flew between his face and the road.

“What. Did. You. Do. To. Me.” His voice was hard. Normally he would play nice, being more tolerant, but because of the picture he was getting he was pretty sure what she had done, and she’d be lucky if he didn’t throw her head first out the door of the moving vehicle. If she was working for the Bratva or God forbid A.R.G.U.S, he would snap her neck, no questions asked. If she was a serial killer wrapped in the blonde girly package seen in front of him,  she would find out soon enough she had messed with the wrong man.

“I hit you with a bat,” she whispered, her eyes still shifting between him and the road nervously.

Oliver nodded his head calmly, but internally his ire rose. He had long since learned to put a tight rein on his emotions, no matter the situation, but this was trying for even him. He would take no pleasure in putting her down, for the girl who hit him in the head hard enough to knock him out didn’t mesh with the cute waitress he been talking to at the diner. He couldn’t really be that bad a judge of character, could he?

The only reason he had not asked Felicity on a date, was that a relationship with a man like him wasn’t an option. If the criminal element in Starling City didn’t eventually get him, the police would. Not to mention, those who had a special interest in seeing him under their thumb or seeing him dead, the Bratva, the Triad, A.R.G.U.S., Kobra Cult, The Council, and some he refused to even think their name.  He couldn’t bring someone into that life. So he held back, enjoying the pleasure of her rambles and eating more Big Belly Burger than he probably should have considered what he did at night. It had been almost forever since he could enjoy the company of a beautiful woman without being worried she was a threat or a distraction so Oliver wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, needed to give her the benefit of the doubt.

That didn’t translate into his voice as he said, “You have two seconds to tell me why or I will snap your neck.”

It was his ‘Hood’ voice, devoid of any emotion, cold and he knew it would register on some basic level that he was not to be trifled with. Felicity let out a sound dangerously close to a squeal before casting a nervous glance toward him.

She swallowed loudly before whispering, “You’re handcuffed.”

“You’ll have to undo them sometime…” he almost smiled because she didn’t know that handcuffs weren’t new to him and the ones she had weren’t quality handcuffs. He could probably break them using only his arms.  

She gasped, her heart-rate speeding up significantly, “Please don’t kill me! I swear I didn’t mean any harm, but I needed… My mother… I was desperate!”

“Felicity,” he growled.

Her mouth snapped shut automatically stopping what was probably going to be a long babble. He saw her take a deep breath before continuing, “My mom has a Christmas party, like I told you at the diner. What I didn’t tell you was that she has been pestering me for weeks about being there and having a date because her new boyfriend has invited his business friends over and you know how those types are pretentious and stuffy. I, um, I mean… not that all rich people are pretentious and stuffy. I mean, you’re not pretentious or… or… 3…2…1 Anyway, I had a date and he canceled, and I tried to tell her, I really did, but she went off and said… well she implied I was too much a loser to get a date and she wanted to set me up with some weird guy she knows through his father. I freaked, and then I saw the bat.  It gave me the idea of how to get to you... Because I didn’t need another discussion about how disappointing my choices were all these years; like what I studied at college, and my career path, and working at the diner and I just… couldn’t. I’m sorry I hit you. How’s your head?”

Oliver gave her a look before he replied, “So you risked giving me brain damage to avoid a confrontation with your mother.” He actually kind of understood her plight, but this was a little far to go for parental approval, “Do you realize how absolutely crazy you sound? Why not ask me like a normal person, as a date? Did that ever occur to you? Or did you go from 'I have no date' to 'let me kidnap a guy'?”

“I…” she stuttered, looking ashamed.

“I wouldn’t have refused you,” he continued. It was true, he had been attracted to her from the start, her beautiful brown eyes, full lips and silky skin had drawn him in. "I might have actually said yes.”

“You... You… but you’re dating that leggy Isabel!” She swung around her eyes wide.

“No, I’m not,” he answered stiffly. “Isabel is a business associate at best, a screaming harpy at worse. Now, you’ll be lucky if all I do is call the police.”

Her face fell and for some stupid inexplicable reason, Oliver didn’t countenance seeing her so sad.

So he spoke without thinking of the consequences, which seemed to be the theme of the day, “Now wake me up when we get there. I have a headache and if I’m to play the devoted boyfriend, I need to sleep it off.”

He smirked when her mouth opened in surprise.

“You’ll... You’ll do it?” She asked.

“Your mother sounds like a piece of work, and it might be fun for me before I call the police.”

After that, Oliver closed his eyes, but his mind whirled too much to sleep. Felicity was no doubt surprised by this turn of events, and in many ways, so was he. He had every intention of breaking his cuffs and making a run for it, but when she spoke of her mother he actually felt for her. Not enough to let her off the hook yet, but enough to help her out. Either way he was going to the party and then he would be leaving, for Christmas was tomorrow, and if he wasn’t there, Thea would have his head, and if it was one thing that Oliver Queen feared more than anything else, it was his irate baby sister.


	4. You Could've Done Worse Than Kidnapping a Billionaire Playboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bonding time for our favourite couple!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me so far and I hope you continue to enjoy.

Felicity’s eyes flitted to Oliver’s face every few minutes. She took him in wondering if he was really able to fall asleep after everything that happened — everything she did — or if he closed his eyes just to get away from her. If that was the reason, she could hardly blame him. She deserved any hate, any disdain he had for her. His words burned her as she thought of how different this day could have been.

_I wouldn’t have refused you._

_I might actually have said yes._

God, how she had messed this up! Felicity didn’t have an excuse, save that, in that moment, desperation had led to insanity. She could have killed him or at least permanently damaged his brain when she struck him in the head.

What had she been thinking? The easy answer would be that she had not been thinking at all, or she had not been thinking of anyone other than herself. She was ashamed, and she was sorry she had killed any chance she had with this amazing man.

Oliver was different from what she had expected. She had always thought of him as unfailingly nice, for she had never seen him angry and had never spoken an unkind word. Not that she didn’t deserve it, but today had proven that he was dangerous. Initially the spark of peril had induced fear, but now it intrigued her.

‘Maybe I am mad!’ She thought as her heart thumped in her chest. There was something decadent about having this Adonis next to her, restrained.

“Are we going to pass a mall on the way?” His eyes opened suddenly meeting hers and Felicity was pretty sure her hair had gone white.

Her hand came up to her heart involuntarily. She swallowed before asking, “M-Mall?”

She could see a glimpse of humor in his eyes as he answered. “Yes. I need a change of clothes, not that blood spots aren’t all the rage.”

“Oh my… I’m so…” Felicity’s face fell.

He waved her away, “Yeah. I got that. I need a new shirt and tie for the party. What time is it anyway?”

“It’s, um, it’s, uh…” she began unable to call to mind anything in that moment. His presence seemed to be addling her brain.

“Felicity, take a breath. You need to relax,” He said as he straightened in the seat. “We’re never going to convince your mother if you’re flinching every time I speak.”

She took a deep breath before muttering, “I get nervous when somebody threatens to snap my neck.”

He chuckled in response, “And I get threatening when a ninety pound girl, soaking wet I might add, knocks me on my ass with a bat. Water under the bridge, though, so…”

“Seven is cocktails, but I promised my mother to help her set up,” she answered. “We’ll probably get to her house by four.”

“Good girl,” he answered, his voice teasing as she threw him a glare, before looking back to the road. “I need a set of casual clothes, as well. So again, is there someplace appropriate that I can purchase a few things?”

“Yeah, it’s actually coming up soon,” she replied, thinking that it was a good thing there weren’t many cars on the road.

“So where are we going,” he shifted in his seat, and to Felicity’s mind becoming conversational.

“Central City,” she answered lightly

“You’re joking?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“No,” she admitted, chancing a glance his way, “My mom moved there with her boyfriend last January.”

 “You do realize we’re crossing state lines.”

“Y-yeah,” she stuttered, her face blank.

Oliver actually let out laugh and Felicity could feel herself flushing, “You really didn’t think this through. Crossing state lines makes this a federal case of kidnapping.”

Felicity’s body immediately contracted with shock.

“Shit!” She muttered, slamming the brakes. The horn and profanities shouted by the man in the car behind her still didn’t snap her out.

“Glad to know something impinged on that brain of yours. Now you were saying?” She heard Oliver speak, but it was as though it was through a tunnel because she was about to have a freaking panic attack.

What is the federal sentence for kidnapping? Would it be worse since she was already on the FBI’s watch list?  

“Felicity, honey,” she heard his voice, “Look at me. You need to take some deep breaths. In and Out. Felicity!”

She finally turned to him, her chest tight.

“I can’t… I can’t… breathe,” she wheezed out.

“Listen to my voice. In and Out. In and Out. In and Out.” He repeated and finally she listened.

_In and Out. In and Out_. She continued this way for a few moments until finally, she was able to breathe again.

“Good. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” his voice was apologetic before he stopped himself, “You were telling me about your mom.”

“Yeah,” she answered, taking another deep breath as she turned back to the road to begin driving again. “She moved to Central City after Vegas, where we live since my senior year in high school. She used to be a Vegas showgirl and that’s where she met her new boyfriend. Simon LaCroix is a corporate tycoon, and when my mother started dating him, he bought her the house we’re going to. It’s huge. He’s rich and he’s indulgent and so my mom got everything she ever wanted out of life, a rich man who gives her everything she wants. It’s the perfect life or it would be if I weren’t in the picture. I’m a little too much like my dad. Blind, blonde and boring,” he raised an eyebrow and she blushed, “Most of the time! I swear this is the first time I ever did something stupid like this. I don’t want to hurt anyone, I never did. Guess it’s the Smoak curse.”

“Smoke?”

“My name is Felicity Smoak. Not that I should give you any more ammunition to give to the police…”

His eyes widened in surprise, “Smoak? Your name is Felicity Smoak?”

“Yeah. Um, why?” She inquired surprised by his reaction.

“MIT class of ’09. Queen Consolidated is building a new research and Development division and your name was at that top of the list.”

“What? B-but why?”

“Walter never forgets true talent and your name had surfaced while you were in your freshman year at MIT as one of the most brilliant.”

“I-I... please don’t tell me I almost killed the one man who would have hired me.”

Oliver merely raised an eyebrow as Felicity shook her head. 

‘.¸¸ . ✶*¨*. ¸ .✫*¨*.¸¸.✶*¨‘*✫

Oliver was completely blown away by the fact that Felicity from the diner was Felicity Smoak. Taking a surreptitious glance at her profile, he could now see the resemblance to the dark-haired Goth their profile had. It was true that Walter had recalled her name from five years ago when he had wanted to recruit her, but this time it was Oliver who had pushed for her employment. R&D was his brainchild, a sort of renewal of the Applied Sciences Division, which had been dying a slow death for the last few years. Oliver knew he needed people who operated outside the box. It was why he had hired Curtis Holt, a former employee of Palmer Technologies who had blown up a lab with one of his experiments, Emil Hamilton, a doctor who had once practiced in Metropolis attempting to help metahumans and Dr. John Henry Irons, a man that while could be touted as the most brilliant weapons engineer in the world had stopped working on offensive weapons and vowed to only invent defensive ones. He hoped his team of misfits would eventually change Star City for the better and maybe one day join his crusade to make the city, his father had failed, into a better place. It was a pipe dream, as Dig, his partner reminded him, but he hoped one day it would come to fruition.

Oliver watched as Felicity scrunched her forehead, eyes expressing her regret. She was not what he had expected. It was the main reason he had not slipped the cuffs and snapped her neck

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, though this Oliver wasn’t sure what she was apologizing for. Was she sorry about the lost opportunity or was she truly remorseful about knocking him out.

He shrugged off her apology before asking, “Where is this place?”

He watched as she pretty much just shook off the conversation and spoke, “Next turn off.”

When they pulled into Napa Premium Outlets, Oliver remembered it was Christmas Eve. To say the mall was packed would be an understatement. They finally found a place to park as far away from the entrance as possible, and Felicity turned to Oliver. He saw her eyeing the handcuffs and swore.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Felicity,” her mouth dropped open in surprise and truth be told he was almost as surprised as her to find he truly meant it.

She looked at him for a long moment before reaching over and unlocking the handcuffs. Oliver used the opportunity to slip off his jacket and roll up the sleeve. The couple of spots of blood were hardly noticeable, but he knew, it would be better if his shirt was changed.

“Do you have any water?” He asked as he reached up to the throbbing cut, feeling the slight matting of his hair where she had hit him. It was far from the worst knot he had ever had and luckily, he didn’t have a concussion.

“Yeah,” she answered and Oliver could see the guilty look in her eyes. They really were expressive.

Oliver used the water to wash quickly the bit of dried blood from his hair. Once that was done, he grabbed a tissue and ran it through his hair.

Exiting the car, he waited for Felicity to join him. When she got out he grabbed her hand, pulling her into him. If it hadn’t been for their proximity, he would have missed the almost silent gasp and the way the pulse in her neck sped up immediately.

Reaching down, he kissed the top of her head and said, “Relax.”

Oliver waited until the stiff set of her shoulders loosened before moving toward the men’s clothing store. There were many people shopping, but it wasn’t overflowing with shoppers, so it was still easy to move around for which he was glad.

As they moved further in, he noticed that all the female attendants had stopped to look his way. Hiding his smile as he heard a huff from Felicity, he turned her to him, tilting her head up. Her eyes widened as he stared a smile tugging at his lips. It was probably a bad idea what he was about to do, but there was a part of him that wanted to use the opportunity any opportunity to get closer to the woman he had been fantasizing about the last six months.

The entire time he was ’away’, he could never completely trust anyone, even when he returned home, that perception of a threat or asset had never changed, not fully. The closest he had come was John Diggle, a man who was so good, so strong that he had figuratively and often quite literally knocked his way into Oliver’s life. Then here was Felicity, this slip of a thing he had met at Big Belly burger. She was the first person he could see as a person.

Oliver leaned down, placing a light kiss on her lips. They were soft and slightly cold from the temperature outside, but that didn’t hinder his enjoyment as her eyes closed in surrender. He was pretty sure, despite his better judgement, he would have kept on kissing her pouty lips if a perky voice hadn’t cut in.

“Happy Holidays! Is there anything I can help you with?” A redhead in a green sweater asked.

Reluctantly he pulled away, enjoying far too much the dazed look behind her glasses.

“Yes, I need a new dress shirt and tie, as well as a sweater and jeans,” he answered easily barely able to tear his eyes away from Felicity.

“Right this way,” the girl motioned.

Oliver tugged on Felicity’s hand, pulling her along. The girl, Maggie, was very helpful, showing him a few styles and actually choosing appropriately for his size. She finished by gesturing them to the dressing room areas. It was such a normal experience, one he couldn’t remember ever having. The Queen family had a personal stylist and shopper which had kept him from experiencing the ‘shopping experience’. Events were always outfitted by designers, most often a number of choices brought to the house for their perusal. This, though, was new, just walking around the mall with his girl.

Oliver kept his hand in Felicity’s. She still hadn’t spoken a word since they had entered, certainly nothing after the kiss, but judging by her blush and the surreptitious glances she kept sending his way, she too had enjoyed the moment between them. So, instead going into the dressing room and closing the door, he tugged her small frame in with him, relishing in the way her mouth dropped open as he discarded his jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. Had he thought it through, he might have been self-conscious. The last woman he had allowed to see his scars had been Laurel, and her reaction had been guilt with a healthy dose of pity. However, he should have known things would be different with Felicity. Without a doubt there was the initial surprise at his scars, a quick realization and a flash of pain entered her eyes, but there was also desire there and that, that took his breath away.

There was one thing he hadn’t accounted for when he pulled her into the changing room, the eroticism of the moment. Oliver could feel the heat of her body near his, her smell, as the scent of cherries and cinnamon filled the air, he could see the flush of her skin as his body drew closer to hers. He turned drawing even nearer as he lifted the sweater over his head, crowding her body against the door.

“Felicity?” He called to her.

Her eyes finally met his and she flushed. Oliver raised an eyebrow at her loving the fact that she was affected by him.

“Which color?” he asked.

“Hmm?” She responded, eyes hooded as she bit her lip.

“Which color sweater?”

“Blue,” she responded after a beat, her voice breathy.

“Good,” he leaned down, swiping his lips against hers realizing how natural it felt, and this time there was no audience.

Taking a step back, he unbuttoned his pants and this time Felicity gasped out, “Oliver!”

He winked, chuckling as she turned her back to his form as he pulled on the sweater and jeans. Smirking, he finally opened the dressing room door and told Maggie that he was taking the blue shirt and an appropriate tie and would be wearing the sweater and jeans.


End file.
